Can you read in your dreams?
You are trapped, bound in a narrative constructed entirely from the electrical activity occurring in your brain. A book, a computer screen, a letter—whatever—appears.
Have you experienced fully the words your brain composes in its attempt to repair itself each night?
Can—you—read—them?
I can’t. I see scribble. My brain untangles chains knotted each day and won’t let me examine the kinks.
Once—just once—it let me look.
At that link.
Right there, the title. I have no idea of what I was dreaming. The obvious answer is “praying mantii,” but why would I have dreamt of praying mantii as a teenager? I hated the experience of science class because it took me ages longer than my classmates to grasp the material.
What on earth was I writing about?
I’ll be contemplating this for a while. Maybe another dream will reveal more.
kellyekosanda 